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: No Cyrano. I lose my bet. Le Bret
: So much the better. Audience
: Montfleury! Montfleury! Montfleury
: Happy he... who far from court and city... Ah, how good... breathes the essence of the vernal wood, And who, when the breeze sings melodies... Cyrano
: Rogue! Didn't I order you off for a month? Montfleury
: What? Who's that? Le Bret
: Cyrano! Ragueneau
: I win! Cyrano
: King of fools. Off the stage! Montfleury
: I'm losing my temper. Montfleury
: Help me gentlemen.
: Thrice happy he who hides from pomp and power/ In sylvan shade or or solitary bower/ Where balmy zephyrs fan his burning cheeks... Cyrano de Bergerac
: Clown! King of Clowns! Leave the stage at once!
: Sir, I will not allow you to insult me in this manner. Cyrano de Bergerac
: Really? In what manner would you prefer?